Jazz and Prowl Oneshots
by redrose1024
Summary: Oneshots involving my otp, Jazz and Prowl. Warnings: fluff, possible sexual content
1. Free Animals

Free Animals

Prowl had been expecting Jazz to come dancing through their quarter doors for several joors now. He'd been off on a mission for nine cycles now and Prowl was beginning to miss his mate. Jazz and his drafted team were expected to be back some time today. The day wasn't beginning to end and Prowl felt worry start to set in.

He felt a glimmer of hope and anticipation when he heard a familiar voice cheerfully yelling outside of their quarters. Prowl looked up just as his mate came into their quarters.

 _Oh no he didn't._

Jazz was hauled in, holding onto the back haunches of a large wolf while other woodland creatures flooded into their quarters.

"Prowl! The forest is full of free animals!"

 **Author's Note: So I found OTP prompts on Pinterest and Jazz and Prowl were calling my name...**


	2. Finals

Finals

Prowl had been studying relentlessly for finals. The library was packed. Unlike Prowl, most students in the Academy had waited until the last minute to study. Finals started tomorrow and stress levels couldn't be higher.

Many of the professors had stationed themselves in the library for a few joors to assist some students who needed the extra help. Jazz was one such mech. He was bouncing from professor to professor asking questions. Prowl on the other hand, had all of his notes in order and was doing some review at a table with his brother and other friends.

Prowl was reading over some notes from his law class when he finally noticed Jazz. Through the crowds he saw him leaning over the table next to a professor who was going over a data pad with him.

As much as Prowl hated to admit it, Jazz was an attractive young mech. He always kept his armor shiny and bold. His visor added a bit of mystery to him, as did his accent and sinister smile. Normally Prowl wouldn't even dare to go near a mech like Jazz, but for what ever reason Prowl found himself doing so. He'd play along with his flirtatious attitude. He'd even gone to a few parties just because of him.

Prowl didn't know that his brother had noticed he was staring at Jazz. It wasn't until a smooth voice filled his helm that he looked away.

 **"Go get some, Prowl!"**

Prowl's gaze turned to his older brother who was hiding his smile behind a data pad. Smokescreen looked between Jazz and Prowl with a mischievous expression.

 **"C'mon Prowl, you're hot enough."**

 **"Frag off."**

 **"Not until you frag Jazz.**

 **"** Prowl rolled his optics and turned back to his studies. Smokescreen pretended to drop the subject and started working too. Behind the data pads he watched as his little brother's optics kept wandering back to Jazz. Prowl's doorwings visibly perked up when Jazz went to a table closer to theirs. Jazz leaned over next to the professor with his elbows propping him up and his aft in the air, giving Prowl a perfect view of the curvature of his frame. Smokescreen was squealing internally, already thinking up the possibilities that could happen.

 **"Prowl! He's right there!"**

 **"This isn't what a sibling bond is for, Smokescreen!"**

 **"I'm just a mech tryin' ta get his brother some aft."**

Prowl didn't respond and forced his nose cone into his data pads.

 **"You don't even need to say anything. Just casually walk by and grab his aft."**

 **"That's highly vulgar and impolite."**

 **"Yeah! Jazz will _totally_** **go for it."**

Prowl squinted at his brother and shook his helm. He went back to catch one last glance at Jazz before continuing to study, only to find that he wasn't there any more.

"Ah'm tellin' ya, Ah am screwed for finals, Ah dunno _slag_ for physics."

He was standing next to Smokescreen. Smokescreen was wearing his signature smirk and staring Prowl dead in the optics.

"He's right here, Prowl. If your gonna grab his aft I'd say do it right now."

 _He is so dead._

 **Author's Note: I am _so_ happy about the support that this story has gotten so far. If you like this story, I have another story called Clash of Class that also has some Jazz and Prowl in it. *wink wink***


	3. Facade

Facade

Prowl had observed Jazz and his demeanour from a close radius. He was a shorter mech with a 'tough guy' attitude. Everything from his walk to his talk screamed it. Prowl had a general idea of where it came from. Jazz was from East Iacon, a dangerous place to grow up in. In order to survive there it was mandatory to have the ego of a bull.

Prowl didn't understand how he wound up having someone like Jazz clinging to his arm. He liked it, yes. He wouldn't trade it for anything else. Over time Prowl had grown to love Jazz more and more. Neither of asked questions about eachother's past and they left it that way. But as Prowl grew to love Jazz more and more, he also grew more interested in his past.

"Jazz," Prowl said. "I need to ask you something."

Jazz looked up from his homework and to his lover. "Yeah, babe?"

"I've been wondering...about your past."

"W-what?" Prowl cringed, perhaps he was too direct.

"Nothing major...I've just wanted to know why you act like your still in Iacon."

"What do ya mean, Prowl. Dis is...just how Ah am.

"Are you sure though? You don't need to put on an act, Jazz."

Jazz sat up and spoke, his voice dangerously low. "Dis _ain't_ an _act._ Disis _how_ _I_ _am._ "

Prowl looked away and put his data pad down. He'd never seen Jazz look like that. Sure, his demeanor already made him look intimidating, but Prowl was just now _scared_ of Jazz.

"I'm sorry, Jazz." He muttered. "I apologize for asking."

Jazz's frame relaxed. He watched Prowl's beautiful doorwings droop, something they never did.

"A-ah didn't mean...Ah've just been..." he tried to search for the right words but they weren't coming. "Wait, Prowl. Come to Iacon wit' me."

Prowl jumped slightly. His processors were not expecting this. He had prepared himself for every other scenario, but not _this._

Ah was gonna plan a visit soon anyways. It'll explain all ya questions, Ah promise!"

"Jazz," Prowl started. " You know I've never gone outside of Praxus."

"Den dis'll be a good oppurtunity! Ya can meet my family if ya want. Ah'll take ya ta all of my favorite places dat Ah used to go to as a younglin'."

He looked into Jazz's pleading optics. They weren't the same accusing ones he saw a minute ago. These ones were the ones he knew and loved. And how could be possibly say no to Jazz?

"Alright, I'll go."

 **Author's Note: So I'm writing a chapter of when they go to Iacon. I really like Jazz and his character and feel like he has always had the potential to have a _fantastic_ back story.**

 _ **Review!**_


	4. Wanna Makeout

Wanna Makeout

"Wanna makeout?" Jazz said.

Prowl looked up from the data pad and to his lover. He raised an optic ridge as Jazz remained still with a neutral expression, awaiting an answer.

About half a joor ago, Jazz wondered into Prowl' office loudly claiming to be bored. Prowl suggested that he work on some data pads. Jazz laughed loudly and plopped himself in the chair adjacent to Prowl's. He then continued to spin and suggest more and more things for them to do together. They only seemed to get more and more absurd as he went on. Jazz first suggested that they go on a drive. Then he suggested that they make a bon fire and take some shots. His last suggestion involved getting into a stolen space ship, flying to Cybertron, and making a castle out of energon cubes.

But this one took him off guard. Jazz had gone so off the wall, that Prowl really wasn't expecting something so normal.

"I'll pass." he finally answered.

Jazz put his servos flat on the table and leaned towards Prowl's face plates. He didn't flinch, at all. He grew frustrated at how distant Prowl was being.

"C'mon, Prowler." Jazz put his pedes on the chair and his aft in the air. "It'll be _fun._ "

"I'm busy, Jazz." Prowl said.

"And Ah'm horny."

Prowl looked at the ceiling and vented deeply in annoyance. Only Jazz could take it to a level this high.

"I'll meet you in our quarters later tonight." he compromised. "I still have to finish my shift."

Jazz leaped over to Prowl's side of the desk and cupped his face. To Prowl's surprise, he didn't try to argue with him, instead he gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

Jazz pranced out of the room cheering, "Ah'll be waitin', my Love!"

 **Author's Note: So this one if based off of a scene in my other fanfic. I was rereading it and thought that I could do better.** **Feel free to review! I'm open to suggestions!**


	5. Aftermath

**Warning: I do mention one of my oc's in this, but she's not important** **in this chapter.**

Aftermath

The battle had gone badly, very badly. Almost all units had been injured. The frontliners got the worst of it. The twins had both been escorted to emergency surgery, dragging the two highest ranking medics into the surgery room. The rest of the medical team was scrambling to make do without them.

This was one of the worst battles that the Autobots had seen in awhile. There had been no casualties, but these days casualties were a rarity.

Prowl, of course, was taking the defeat much harder than the others. It was his plans that failed. So as he saw it, it was his fault the entire battle failed.

After Jazz's wounds had been tended to, he went in search of Prowl. He'd known his friend long enough to know how he handled things like this.

He found him in his office. Prowl didn't answer after he knocked. Luckily, Jazz knew the pass code.

The door slid open. All the lights were off except for one lit up over the desk. Prowl was slumped over his desk with a partially full cube to high grade in his servo. Jazz could smell the thick armoa of high grade. Obviously, this was not his first cube.

"Prowl," Jazz said. "Are you...alright?"

Prowl didn't respond. Jazz was at a loss for words. He stepped closer to the desk. His pedes grazed other empty cubes of high grade and a few shards of glass. He finally turned on the light. What he saw made him realize just how hard Prowl was taking this loss.

The desk that Jazz thought Prowl was leaning on was thrown against the wall. Prowl was presently using his bookshelf, now tipped sideways, as a desk. Data pads were scattered everywhere. There was only one that wasn't on the floor, the one that contained the failed plans.

Jazz pursed his lip plates together and close the door. "Prowl." he said.

Prowl's doorwings finally flicked. "My brothers..." he uttered, voice quivering. "How are they?"

Jazz straightened up and continued to advance towards him. The stench of high grade got stronger.

"Dey're better den dey were..." He answered.

"They're online, _right_?"

Jazz was taken aback. "Ah don't think dat dey were ever in any danger of... _offlinin_ '."

Prowl lifted his helm off the shelf and stared at Jazz. Jazz stiffened under his optics.

"Did you see the way Nova looked?" he said. "She was scared for his life. She thought her mate was going to offline. She thought she was going to lose Smokescreen forever."

Prowl stood up and put his servos on Jazz's shoshoulders. Jazz tried to make himself seem calm.

"Prowler...they're all fine now. We all thought a lot of things-"

"Did you hear them screaming, Jazz? I..." Prowl's voice cracked. He looked away from Jazz. "I've _never_ seen Smokescreen in so much pain."

"He's in stasis now, ain't feelin' a thing."

"Jazz, even _Bluestreak_ took a hit." Prowl bit his lip component.

Jazz saw raw emotion in Prowl's optics, a sign he was overcharged. "Every one has to take a hit sometime or another." He tried to reason.

"A _bullet_ to the _chassis_?! If he was even an _inch_ closer he would've been _gone!_ "

"Prowl, please." Jazz said. "Everything's fine."

Prowl swatted Jazz's servos away and turned to the data pads. He scanned the plans and pointed to a certain section.

"I calculated it so _perfectly_."

"Prowl," Jazz suddenly cried. "So _what_ if da battle didn't go well. What does it matter?"

"We're in a war. _Everything_ matters."

Jazz threw his servos up. "Ya got me dere, but Ah need ya to know somethin'." He stepped closer to Prowl, their chassises almost touching. "It ain't ya fault."

"Yes it is." Prowl argued.

"No it ain't." Jazz urged. "Ain't nobody blamin' ya for what happened out there."

Prowl plopped onto the side of the shelf and held his helm in his servos. Jazz took a small step forward.

"How do you know that they're not blaming me?" Prowl muttered.

"Ah don't, but..." The next words were just above a whisper. "Ah do know dat Ah don't blame ya."


	6. Lightning, Roses, and Gunshots

Lightning, Roses, and Gunshots

Prowl sprinted through the battlefield. It was raining hard, one thing he hadn't gotten used to while on Earth. Fear gripped him as he dodged numerous attacks from different opponents. He bypassed everyone and kept going.

He had his goal in mind. He always had a goal in mind. It was a rare occasion that he acted without one.

He had received a rather unnerving comm. from his lover. It was filled with static, part of it had gotten cut off, but he could still hear the tone in his voice. It sent Prowl over the edge in fury.

He immediately bolted away from the battle. He _needed_ to find Jazz.

The black and white mech tried to reach his lover through their bond, only to find that he'd closed it. That only scared Prowl even more. Jazz never closed the bond unless something bad had happened. The last time he closed it was when he was captured by the Decepticons. He had closed it because he didn't want Prowl to feel the pain he was in.

It only made Prowl run faster. He nearly slipped on the mud as he tried to make a sharp turn. As he was regaining his composure, he turned and looked to his left to see a particularly small black and white mech looking at something on the ground.

"Jazz!" Prowl cried.

He scrambled to his pedes and desperately sped over to him. The mech slowly turned around to face Prowl. He didn't appear to be in any sort of distress. Prowl slowed down at that. Lightning struck, providing some light to let him see his mate a bit better. He was smiling. Why was he smiling? Prowl crept towards him further. He was holding something red.

"Ya'll never guess what Ah found, Prowler!" he happily exclaimed.

Prowl stopped dead in his tracks and took in the sight of his mate. His entire frame was glistening with rain water, not a single drop of mud was on him. In his servos he held a bundle of shrubs with the roots still attatched. On the shrubs were red roses, perfectly in bloom. The petals were falling off the flowers and sticking to Jazz's soaked frame.

Jazz trotted forward. He shoved the bushes into Prowl's servos and said, "Ah found 'em!"

Prowl inspected the plant and then his mate. His mate was perfectly fine, not a scratch on him.

"Da humans say dey mean romance." Jazz then continued. "One means love, a dozen means gratitude, twenty five means congratulations, and fifty means... unconditional love." Prowl remained in a baffled silence. "Ah'm not sure how many Ah got, but Ah think it's close to fifty."

Jazz put them in Prowl's servos. They both ignored the gunshots of the battle and the pouring rain. Jazz touched Prowl's cheek and leaned in for a kiss.

Prowl gratefully returned it.


	7. And We'll Never Be Royals

And We'll Never Be Royals

He didn't expect the Prince of Iacon to be so hyperactive.

When he accepted the job of being a guard, he didn't expect to see the Prince wandering around without any armor on. Nor did he expect to watch the prince smuggle out high grade from the ball and drink it all in one serving. But he still couldn't get over the fact that the prince liked him so much.

When Prowl looked at himself in the mirror, he saw an angry looking black and white mech who didn't say much. When he looked at Jazz, he saw a joyful black and white mech who said everything.

But when Jazz looked at himself in the mirror, he saw a small black and white mech who wears a crown that somehow means something. When he looks at Prowl, he sees a tough black and white mech with the loudest mind in all of Cybertron.

He only wished that he could voice that somehow. Maybe now wasn't the best time, but soon.

He knew that Prowl struggled with self loathing. There was a time when Jazz had visited him while he was training.

"Dayum son! Ya one strong aft mech!" Jazz shouted.

Prowl stopped what he was doing and looked at the prince. "I...am not. There are others who are far superior to me." he paused. "But thank you, my Prince. Your praise is appreciated.

From that day forth, Jazz wanted to make Prowl smile and feel good about himself. But, perhaps _this_ wasn't the way to go about it.

Jazz laid in Prowl's embrace. Jazz pressed his back against Prowl's chassis. Prowl draped an arm around Jazz's middle and used his arm as a pillow for them both. The Prince could feel Prowl's intakes against his neck. He smelled like high grade.

Jazz's plan had gone perfectly. He wanted to boost Prowl's self esteem. Interfacing with a Prince should do the trick.

Jazz couldn't help but smile.


	8. Optic Contact at the Academy

Optic Contact in the Academy

It was the fourth time Prowl had walked by the music room. He wasn't there for the music. He was there for the mech _playing_ the music. The mech sitting at the piano playing some of Cybertron's oldest pieces while he and another femme sang.

This time, he couldn't help but stop and stare. There were many others in the room, all focused on the lavender femme singing her spark out. She sat on the piano while the mech sat on the stool and played. He scanned around the room to look at everyone else who seemed to be having a good time. His spark dropped when he saw his older brother.

Prowl gasped and hid behind a wall. He released a vent and decided to call it a day. He turned and started to walk down the hall.

"Prowl?"

 _Oh no._

Prowl braced for impact. He heard his brother's pedes rush towards him and embrace his middle. Prowl began shouting and demanding that he put him down. Smokescreen didn't listen and proceeded to tow him into the music room. Prowl immediately got quieter as soon as he entered the room. The mech and femme continued to play as if nothing has ever happened. Smokescreen sat them down in two office chairs towards the back. All the other mechs and femmes were either sitting in chair, on the ground, or leaning against the wall. The professor was sitting on a stool in the corner taking notes on a data pad. Prowl assumed that this was a test. Perhaps that's why they were both performing with such passion.

"That's Jazz and Nova." Smokescreen whispered.

 _Jazz,_ Prowl repeated in his mind.

"Jazz is one of the best musicians at the academy." Smokescreen said. "Nova's just here to frag around."

Prowl nodded and watched them sing. Jazz almost never looked at the piano or his sheet music. His attention appeared to be on Nova. She had her optics shuttered and a servo resting on her chassis as she sang.

Prowl leaned back in his chair and watched the visored mech. His voice sent his doorwings aflutter whenever he harmonized with the femme. The black and white mech took his optics off the femme and put them briefly on the audience. He scanned the spectators until he focused on a particular black and white praxian. Prowl stiffened underneath his gaze. Even with the visor on, he could tell that he was looking at him. Jazz flashed him a quick smile before looking back at the piano to finish up the song.

Everyone cheered and clapped once they finished. Prowl watched Jazz get up from the piano and walk over to the professor with the femme. They shared a few brief words with him while another pair readied themselves to perform. They thanked their professor and walked away to where Smokescreen and Prowl were sitting. Prowl could only gape at the way the black and white mech moved his frame. He seemed so confident with the way he moved his arms and had a slight skip in his steps.

"'ey Smokey, me and Nova are gonna go to da cafe wit' da cool aft windows and tables. Da ya two wanna come?" Jazz asked.

"Frag yes," Smokescreen agreed. "c'mon Prowl."

Smokescreen grabbed his brother's arm and hoisted him up into a standing position. Prowl could only nod in agreement and follow them out of the classroom.


	9. Summon

Summon

Prowl had walked in on Jazz doing a lot of things. Some sparked jealousy, some hatred or disgust, sometimes even interest. But he didn't expect him to be doing _this._

"Jazz," Prowl said from the door. "what is this?"

Jazz looked up from the circle made of ash on the floor. "Sup Prowl!" he greeted. "Ya like my newest project?"

Prowl took in the sight of Jazz sitting in a dark room with nothing but a few data pads, a circle of ash, and some candles.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well ya see," he stood up and walked over to Prowl. "Ya know how finals are comin' up?" In the brighter light, Prowl could now see that Jazz had smeared ash all over his face plates as well. "And ya know how everyone's always sayin' stuff like, 'Primus is the answer.' and 'Believe in Primus'?" Prowl nodded. "Well, Primus didn't have my back last semester, so why would he have it now?" Prowl shrugged. "Long story short, Ah'm summomin' Unicron."

Prowl watched as Jazz returned to his post in the center of the circle. "Ya can join me if ya want." he offered.

"Pass." Prowl put his stuff down on his berth. "It would be much easier to just study."

"Naw, Ah'd rather summon Unicron."

"So instead of learning, you'd rather go against your spiritual beliefs and make a deal with the ultimate evil?"

"'xactly."

Prowl pursed his lip plates and nodded. "I'll leave you to it."


	10. Sixteen Cycles

Sixteen Cycles

On the first cycle, Prowl could only stare in disbelief at what he was hearing.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He and his team haven't returned." Prime said. "We'll be sending out a search party tonight."

The team returned the second cycle. Everyone except Jazz.

The medics came rushing in to retrieve the injured. The search party exchanged the injured mechs covered in dirt and mud. The Decepticons had left them for scrap. They only did that when they found something even more valuable. That valuable thing was Jazz.

Prowl began his plans on the third cycle. He wouldn't rest until they were _perfect_.

He sealed himself off in the battle room with only the best strategists. While the number of mechs shifted around, he remained through it all.

"You should go rest." they'd say.

Prowl would reply flatly, "No."

Through the fourth, fifth and sixth cycle he worked. He'd wake up, refuel, lock himself in the battle room, and go back to his quarters at around 2200 hours. It was a system that he'd developed long before he bonded to Jazz. In fact, Jazz was the one who made him change it.

As he continued to work, his plans got more and more daring. He drafted only the top soldiers in each department, like he always did. Only the best of the best could execute _Prowl's_ plans.

He finished on the seventh cycle. His ideas were presented to Prime and the rest of the Officers.

They gave each other wary glances at the end of his presentation. Finally, Prime spoke up.

"What's the success rate, Prowl?" he asked.

"72%."

The glances only got more fearful. Prowl had never made plans with anything under an 80% success rate. But it made sense. These plans were daring in every way. They had to be to carry out a rescue mission like this.

Prowl and a team of soldiers left early on the eighth day. They needed to use the dark to their advantage. Prowl led his team to the Decepticons base and carried out his plan.

He was on edge the entire time. True, he had nearly everyone on base coming with him, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling in his spark. There was only a 72% success rate, a 28% failure rate.

But there was also the chance that Jazz wasn't even online anymore. The Decepticons could've decided to offline him while they had the chance. Jazz, the third in command of the Autobots, a legendary saboteur, _gone_. It'd be a heavy blow on the Autobots if he was murdered. Chances are that Prowl would offline from the grief. More often than not, a widow's spark would extinguished from the over coming sorrow of losing their other half.

But if Jazz joined the allspark, Prowl would want to also.

The first few moments of the ninth cycle was one of the happiest Prowl had ever felt.

It was exactly 0001 when they were able to pry open the doors. On the other side would be Jazz.

Prowl could feel his spark already buzzing with longing. Ironhide was working to break the door down. He had to move quickly, the Decepticons knew the Autobots were there.

Finally, the doors flung open. Prowl's spark stopped at the sight.

Jazz was chained to the wall. His servos were bound behind him. He was slumped forward, the chains keeping him from hitting the ground completely. The black and white mech was now painted partially blue with his own energon. His metal was thrashed open, energon oozing out. He was trembling. Small whimpers escaped his lip plates as he instinctually shied away from the light.

Prowl cried his name and rushed to him. He pulled his mate into his embrace and muttered his name. Jazz, however, was easily startled at this point. He thrashed until he was free and began screaming. His visor flickered on and off, a sign he wasn't even seeing correctly.

"Jazz, please." Prowl said as he pinned Jazz against the wall.

Jazz calmed slightly at his voice. He panted heavily and froze, listening.

"Jazz." Prowl said again.

He turned his helm ever so slightly to look at his mate. "Prowl." he croaked.

Prowl took both servos and laid them on. Jazz' face plates. Jazz began to calm. He too reached out to his mate. But instead of the calculated touches Prowl demonstrated, Jazz's were sporadic. He could hardly see, so he just felt around until he found something.

Prowl took the back of his servo and pressed a kiss to it. Jazz shivered at the touch and leaned into Prowl's chassis.

Ratchet appeared behind the two and ran a quick scan on Jazz' frame. As Ratchet was reading it over, Prowl continued to calm Jazz even more.

Jazz was still whimpering and pawing at Prowl. Prowl could only assure him that he wasn't going anywhere to soothe him. Occasionally Jazz would mutter something. He'd only respond with reassuring words and comforting touches.

Ratchet administered painkillers and got to work. Prowl concentrated on Jazz, he kept him in a slight lull.

He was down on one knee and cradled Jazz against his frame. Jazz gently panted into his chassis. He was wracked with pain and Prowl knew it.

Prowl sat in the med bay on the tenth cycle.

Ratchet had worked many joors to stabilize Jazz. Prowl had waited patiently for his mate on the other side of the med bay doors. Now, he was allowed in.

The anesthetics kept Jazz in stasis for the most part. Every now and again he'd online briefly. When he did, Prowl would be there.

On the eleventh cycle, Ratchet put him into a complete stasis. There would be no more of him briefly onlining. Jazz would be in total silence, and until he awakened, so would Prowl.

Ratchet had tried to keep the reasoning away from Prowl, but eventually the mech's cold stares got the better of him.

"He onlined while you ran to your office yesterday." Ratchet spoke. "He was in a frenzy, could've harmed himself or someone else."

Prowl nodded curtly.

There was no expression from him. Prowl was even less expressive than before, if even possible. He knew that Jazz would hate to see him in such a state, but given the circumstances, it was for the best.

Ratchet laid a servo on his shoulder. "It's for the best."

On the twelfth cycle, Ratchet relieved Jazz of the stasis lock. Now, he could online if his systems wished to do so. However, it appeared that they didn't want to.

Jazz remained in the stasis-like state. Now, it was a waiting game. And wait Prowl did.

He waited all the way to the thirteenth cycle.

When Jazz did online, Prowl was there like he intended to be.

He stirred slightly, visor flickering. Prowl was hovering over him, optics hardened and focused. Jazz suddenly bolted upright before crying out in pain and shock. He flopped back onto the medical berth, now laying on his side.

"Jazz." Prowl said calmly yet sternly.

Jazz was panting from the pain. It appeared that Ratchet had _really_ cut back on the pain killers.

Prowl laid his servo in Jazz', making him squeeze it tight. Jazz slowly drifted back into reality.

"Prowl?" he vented.

"I'm here." Prowl assured.

On both the fourteenth and fifteenth cycle, Ratchet monitored Jazz closely. Luckily, there were no changes in the wrong direction. For two cycles, Jazz made only tremendous strides in the right direction.

He clung to Prowl for most of it. Prime had granted Prowl a leave with out a second thought. If he didn't, Ratchet would surely have his helm on a stake.

Ratchet let Jazz leave the med bay to rest in his quarters on the sixteenth cycle. Prowl would still be bringing Jazz to the med bay daily.

It was evident that Jazz would progress much better if he wasn't surrounded by the constant uproar of the med bay. He was put under tremendous amounts of stress while in captivity, both mentally and physically. He needed a calm place to be with himself and with Prowl.

Now, he laid with Prowl in their berth. Prowl had moved their berth to the corner away from the door. Jazz liked to sleep facing the wall so he didn't have to online to a wide open room. Prowl would always be laying directly behind him, silently discouraging any sort of traumatic outbursts.


	11. Painting

**Warining: I meantion one of my ocs but she'd not that important...**

Painting

"Draw meh like one of yer french girls." Jazz grinned.

"Another human reference?" Prowl groaned.

"Ah got dis idea from da same movie."

Prowl hummed in amusement. He set up an easel and laid out some paints.

"Ya sure ya wanna go first?" Jazz asked.

"Yes." he replied simply.

"A'ight."

Jazz laid down on the table draped in a red cloth. He threw one arm over his helm and the other resting at his side. His top half rested on a stack of pillows while his bottom half rested on the cloth.

Prowl took his position behind the easel and got to work. Jazz remained still, only talking occasionally. He hadn't seen Prowl this concentrated on something in awhile. Sure, the mech was very intense, but the expression on his mate's face told him he was completely engulfed in his project.

A joor later, Jazz was beginning to get restless.

"Are ya done yet?" Jazz whined.

"Almost." Prowl muttered.

Jazz huffed a sigh.

"Done." Prowl finally said.

Jazz hopped up and skipped to the easel. Prowl stepped away and put the paints and brushes in the sink. Jazz arrived to the easel just as Prowl left the room to clean up.

"Holy frag!" Jazz screamed.

Prowl peeked his helm from the other room.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, dat's da problem!"

Prowl walked over to Jazz's side. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Where'd ya learn to paint?!"

"Back at the Academy," he began. "I took an art class with Nova. I didn't really know anything about art so she taught me most of what I learned."

Jazz stared back at the painitng.

"Dis is goin' up in my office."


End file.
